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Robert: My client specifically requested you come. You will be there.
Gemma: I won’t. Your client is not my problem. I’m not marrying you. It’s over, Robert. Stop texting me!
My blood pressure rises and so does my anger level. I’m half-tempted to block his number so I’ll never have to hear from him again.
Robert: It’s not over. We will work this out because we belong together.
His last message nearly sets me off.
Gemma: You’re INSANE. Leave me alone.
I lock my phone and shove it into my crossbody purse. Thankfully, the food comes soon after because I’m so damn annoyed I can barely stand to be in public.
When I walk inside the shop, Tyler instantly notices my mood change.
“Did you step in dog shit or something?”
Shaking my head, I set the food on the small table. “It’s nothing.”
Tyler doesn’t push the conversation. Instead, he changes the subject, which I’m grateful for. It’s obvious he’s keeping his distance from me at the table, but I get it. My dad is already suspicious, which motivates me to tell him tomorrow even more.
I take my phone out of my purse and snap a picture of my lunch and send it to Everleigh. Immediately, she responds with a drooling face emoji.
Everleigh: Should’ve gotten you to deliver me lunch. Drinking a shitty protein shake.
I feel bad for not asking her since the boutique is so close.
Gemma: I’m a horrible best friend.
I frown, and Tyler glances up at me. “I’m chatting with Everleigh. She didn’t bring her lunch again. You’re slacking on your brotherly chef duties.”
He lets out a roar of laughter. “I bet you a hundred bucks she ate last night's leftovers for breakfast because I cooked. Don’t let her play you for a fool. She’s good at that sometimes.”
I gasp. “Seriously? I’m so calling her out! I felt sorry for her for two seconds.”
I type out a message, spilling what Tyler said.
Everleigh: That little shit! Tell him to keep my secrets to himself.
I snort at her antics. My phone buzzes again, and when I lower my eyes, I notice it’s Robert again. Knowing it will put me in a bad mood, I ignore it. When Tyler and I are halfway finished eating, Dad returns with a milkshake in his hand.
“You didn’t bring me one?” I pretend to be offended. He’s in a better mood than earlier at least.
“Shoulda asked! Belinda makes them extra chocolatey for me.” He takes a sip of it and beams.
“Tease,” I say, cleaning up our mess.
“Belinda’s shakes are the best,” Tyler admits. “She made me a strawberry banana one, and it was pure heaven.”
“I’m gonna have to try that one. I had no idea she was the queen at making shakes,” I retort, actually wishing he would’ve gotten me one now.
“I think I’ve gained ten pounds because of her.” Dad laughs, patting his belly.
“You’re the one who keeps going down there, Daddy,” I remind him. “She’s just making sure you’re a happy customer.”
“Or she knows the way to a man’s heart is his stomach,” Tyler taunts, waggling his brows. I chuckle at his insinuation that Belinda is flirting with my dad by making him shakes, though it’d be super cute if that was the case.
The two of them get back to work, and I busy myself with the financial statements, ignoring my phone and all the messages Robert keeps sending me. When I think about him, my anxiety spikes, and I feel as if I can’t breathe.
